A Disparate Set of Events with Coinciding Elements
by Beautiful T Jakson
Summary: Riddle is defeated, but Harry's still got four years of school left. Return to Hogwarts, where the Dark Lord's defeat doesn't mean any less adventure for our stalwart hero. Discontinued.
1. Prologue

The large room hadn't changed at all since Sirius's last visit; even the sky outside was still pearlescent, sending a muted glow through the tall windows. Also the same was the author, who sat at the same wooden table, now reclining in his chair with his feet propped on the table, his eyes furiously scanning the manuscript he held in front of him. Occasionally, his face would give a small twitch, lips quirking in a smile or frown, nose crinkling in apparent disgust, eyebrows raising a fraction, before returning to the same neutral expression.

"Is that the first chapter?" Sirius asked, and the author gave a small jerk, looking quickly up at Sirius. Sirius noticed for the first time that the young man had shaved, his scruffy facial hair replaced by a light stubble. "You shaved."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," the author said. "I'm proofreading," he said in response to Sirius's question, holding up the manuscript, which was held together with a small binder clip. "It's hard when everyone you know has worse grammar than you. I have to proofread my own stuff, and that means I miss things."

"So, you're finished with the first chapter?" Sirius asked eagerly, plopping down across from the author, who nodded. "Can I see it?" he asked, reaching across the table.

"Not yet," he said defensively, clutching the papers against his chest. "I need to fix my grammar first. And some of the wording needs changed."

"Well, can you tell me what happens?" Sirius asked, and the author shook his head with a small smile.

"It'd spoil the surprise," he said. "You'll have to read it along with everyone else."

"Am I in the story, at least?" Sirius asked, and the author glanced at the manuscript still clutched to his chest before nodding.

"You don't have a speaking part yet, but you'll make an appearance," he said.

"And do Harry and Hermione get any action yet?"

"Actually, they're snogging almost right out of the gate," the author said with a satisfied smirk, which faded to panic as Sirius leapt across the table.

"All right, just lemme see it!" he said, snatching at the paper, but the author leapt up, running behind his chair.

"It's not done yet!" he said, and Sirius aimed his wand at the author.

"_Accio!_" the manuscript flew from the author's flailing hands and into Sirius's.

"No fair!"

* * *

The sky was just beginning to glow a soft, pale blue, the slightly illuminated grounds covered in the all-too-common morning mist, when a lone barn owl swooped towards a rather large castle next to a lake. As it dipped low over a large round hut on the edge of the nearby woods, it let its customary hoot of thanks as a large, hairy man tossed a dead rat up in the air as he exited his front door.

Somehow, the bearded one always knew when the owl had managed to miss its prey that night.

Ascending once more, the owl banked along the castle walls, flying past darkened windows covered in condensation, eyeing its own reflection as it moved. It spotted a ledge directly in its path and landed for a moment to enjoy its feast in peace, away from the prying eyes of the others in the owlery. The tiny gray one in particular had an annoying habit of twittering nearby until the owl relinquished a scrap of meat for his tiny stomach.

The owl looked contemplatively at the fast approaching sunrise. The castle was more active once again; for a while, the many children had left, and life had been pretty boring, especially without the nice ones in yellow who occasionally came to give treats to the ownerless owls like itself. Now, they seemed even more generous than usual, so much so that the owl eyed the rather large remainder of its meal with something akin to distaste. Perhaps the tiny gray owl would be so surprised with his meal, he would leave the owl alone for a while.

Voices from inside the ledge it had perched upon….

"Rise and shine, Har—OI! Oh, bloody hell! Seamus! Dean! Look at this!"

Laughter.

"Aw, they look so cute!" another voice laughed.

"Harry and Miney sittin' in a tree…!"

"I dare you to finish that sentence, Finnigan," a female voice said, and there were sounds of a scuffle. Before the owl could get out of the way, a shoe flew out the window, knocking it off the ledge. It managed to right its flight, but the half-eaten mouse flew down to the ground below.

Crazy humans!

Carving a direct path to the owlery, the owl heard a few more snatches of conversation.

"Hermione, you nearly walloped that owl!"

"Is it okay?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't look happy with you…."

The owl began to contemplate becoming a permanent houseguest of the hairy one….

……

"Oh, now you're not speaking to me, Hermione?" Ron asked, and Hermione steadfastly ignored him, as she had been doing all morning. "C'mon, that's no way to act."

"Harry, can you tell Ron that _rudely_ waking up your friends and then bringing your other mates to laugh about it is _also_ no way to act?" Hermione asked, still looking steadily forward, and Harry held up his hands in surrender, grinning.

"Hey, I'm staying out of this," he said. "I claim neutrality."

"Yeah, you can laugh about it," she said. "You didn't almost…_bare all_ to Seamus and Dean. And poor Neville looked ready to faint."

"That's what you get for sleeping without a shirt on," Ron said, and Hermione reached for her wand, but Harry placed his hand on her arm and leaned into her ear.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered, and Hermione went still, a smile appearing on her face, and she sighed. Harry slid a hand around her back and she nestled her head into his shoulder.

"Promise?" she asked, looking up at him, and Harry grinned, eliciting a blush from her.

"Forever," he said, leaning in to kiss her and waving off Ron just out of her sight. Ron gave him a thumbs up and mouthed, "Thanks mate," before hurrying off to the next class to tell Flitwick the pair might be a little late.

"I saw that," Hermione whispered as she pulled away, and Harry smiled sheepishly.

"Saw what?" he asked. "I was completely absorbed in the beauty that is my Hermione Jane Granger."

"Oh, you are so full of it," Hermione said with a smile, taking his hand. "But, I love you anyway."

It had been a month since their initial confessions of love to each other, and Hermione's words still made his heart leap and do a back flip. He pecked her on the nose, and they joined hands, making their way to Flitwick's class.

"By the way, we're on patrol duties tonight," Hermione said as they walked, and Harry groaned. "Oh, don't be a baby. You accepted the prefect badge, so you have to take the responsibility with it."

"Yeah, but McGonagall won't even let me take Padfoot on patrols," Harry said, and Hermione rolled her eyes. Padfoot had become an instant celebrity among the Gryffindors after being allowed to stay by the new headmistress, McGonagall (the image of Harry clinging to Padfoot's neck and staring forlornly up at McGonagall still made Hermione laugh; McGonagall had had no chance). One thing the headmistress had drawn the line on was Sirius accompanying Harry during prefect duties.

"I made the mistake of letting James and Sirius help Remus one night," McGonagall had said. "Needless to say, they caused more trouble than they stopped."

"He gets so bored on my patrol nights," Harry said with a sigh, and Hermione laughed.

"You know as well as I do that he spends every patrol night at the Three Broomsticks making passes at Madam Rosmerta," she said. "Besides, aren't I company enough for you?" she said, pouting at him, and Harry grinned, kissing her once more before stepping into Flitwick's room.

"Ah, Mister Potter, Miss Granger," Flitwick said, smiling at them. "Do try not to make a habit out of tardiness. It won't help in the future."

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione said, and Harry nodded at him. They took their seats, ignoring the mutterings and giggles of their fellow classmates (though Harry had to work hard to tune out the happy sighs of Lavender and Parvati as they watched the couple).

Professor Flitwick proceeded to teach them about the supersensory charm, which would give the subject vastly improved senses.

"Extreme caution must be used when casting this charm," he told them from atop his desk. "If you are too enthusiastic and overdo it, every sound will be deafening, every sight blinding, every smell the most pungent ever, every touch too painful to endure, and even the slightest taste in the air will linger for hours."

"Gross," Ron said. "Can you imagine that in the quidditch locker room? All that sweat and dirt? Be like eating old gym socks."

"Thank you, Ron," Hermione said with unmasked sarcasm. "Dinner's going to be so much more delicious with that thought in mind."

Harry chuckled as he raised his wand. "_Eligere_ _cognosceri_," he muttered, and the room instantly got louder. It wasn't overbearingly loud, but he could pick up snatches of nearly every conversation in the room.

"…think I might have the movement a little off…"

"…put on two different colored socks by accident…"

"…think Ron _really_ has a girlfriend in America?"

"…heard you had a little surprise this morning…"

Thinking it best if he didn't hear any more, Harry waved his wand once more, and muttered, "_Finite_," the word almost deafening to his own ears.

"Learn anything new?" Hermione asked as next to her, Ron clapped his hands over his ears, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Our classmates are just plain weird," he said, waving his wand in Ron's general direction. "_Finite_."

Ron sighed in obvious relief. "Oops," he muttered.

……

Their next class was Defense Against the Dark Arts, where they were taught by an old acquaintance, Sean O'Hara, who had decided to keep the position originally offered him by Dumbledore (when asked if this had anything to do with the fact that Nymphadora Tonks was the new History of Magic teacher, he merely grinned and replied, "S'possible."). Harry particularly enjoyed Sean's lessons, as the professor seemed to share his best friend Leon's disdain for books; as such, nearly all of his lessons were practical, and reading was tacked on as an assignment before the next lesson.

"Alright, kiddos?" Mr. O'Hara (he refused to be called "Professor") greeted the class in his usual manner. "How we doin' this mornin'?"

The class chorused various statements to the effect of "All right", though Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas pointedly yawned.

"Not enough sleep, you two?" Mr. O'Hara chuckled, and gave them a grin. "We'll I got somethin' that'll get the blood pumpin'. Blasting hexes."

……

"That man knows how to teach a class," Dean said about an hour later as the Gryffindors headed for lunch, most of them sporting enormous grins. Through the collective effort of the whole class, every piece of furniture in Mr. O'Hara's classroom had been reduced to rubble. Even Neville had managed to obliterate the teacher's desk, easily the largest piece in the room.

The group sat down to lunch, Ron piling a sample of every platter within arm's reach onto his plate. Harry chose a simple meal of corned beef and potatoes, while Hermione had a salad.

"Today's Potions is a double, right?" Ron asked, taking a massive bite of an equally massive pork chop. Hermione nodded as she consulted her schedule.

"Yes," she said. "Our first double with Professor Flamel. Should be interesting."

"Ugh," Ron grumbled, a sound that was made a thousand times worse by the fact that his mouth was full of half-chewed potatoes. "'Ay 'at 'lash 'ow."

Harry and Hermione merely stared at him as he swallowed his mouthful of food, Hermione shaking her head slowly from side to side.

"I don't believe I've ever met a boy more disgusting than you," she observed as Ron took a swig of pumpkin juice, belching loudly. "How you managed to get a girlfriend is just…inexplicable."

"Must be my good looks," he said with a grin, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"And humility," she added under her breath. Ron didn't seem to hear her, moving on to a large dish of chocolate pudding.

"Anyway," he went on. "I can believe they let that Flamel teach classes here. I mean, how old is he anyway?"

"Well, he's certainly qualified," Hermione said. "I don't think he's ever been unable to answer a question about potions."

"Yeah, but he's…odd," Ron said. "Ever try to hold a conversation with him? He asked if Ginny and I were related once, and I barely understood a word he said."

"That's because you don't listen," Hermione said. "You don't understand a lot of what _I_ say, either."

"I understand _everything_ you say," Ron said defensively, taking another swig of his juice. Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"It would be judicious to depart expeditiously in order to convey to the next seminar," she said, and Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing as Ron's eyes widened significantly, a small trickle of pumpkin juice escaping and dribbling down his chin. "There. Now your statement is officially false."

Still, chuckling, Harry stood, offering a hand to Hermione. "C'mon," he said. "Let's depart expeditiously. The seminar starts in ten minutes."

……

The potion master was already waiting in the classroom when the trio entered, which didn't surprise them in the slightest; the professor rarely left the dungeon at all.

HI Unit Mk. 1, designation 000-11214, or Nick Flamel, as he liked to be called, was the only remaining HI unit left in the castle, the rest having been relocated to Azkaban prison to guard the fortress. Six of the units had gone missing shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts was declared a victory. Five were later located in the Forbidden Forest, stargazing with the centaurs (where they remained to this day), while the Flamel unit had been discovered in Severus Snape's private library, having pored through every potions book the professor had amassed in his life (3,972, to be precise) in the course of four hours and given himself the name Nick Flamel, after the famous alchemist. After checking the robot for programming aberrations and carefully removing his incendiary units, the TanakaCo engineers released the unit into Hogwarts's custody, where he took up the potions post due to his now in-depth knowledge of the subject and the fact that Severus Snape had yet to be found.

"_Good day, students_," Flamel said, his cybernetic voice not as jarring as the first HI Units', though still more monotone than most humans'. "_Open textbooks to page 634, please. Today, you will be learning how to brew the draught of living death."_

"Oh, they usually save this one for N.E.W.T year," Hermione whispered to Harry. "I guess they really are updating the curriculum this year."

"_As usual, if you have any questions, you may ask your fellow classmates or myself_," Flamel said, raising large, three-fingered hand to point at the ingredients cupboard. "_Any ingredients that you do not have on hand at the moment can be found in the storage cupboard. You may begin_."

They were ten minutes into the class, when Ron first tapped Harry on the elbow, nodding across the room.

"Malfoy's giving you the evil eye again," he muttered with a small laugh. "That's, what, the third week in a row?"

"Well, by his logic, I'm wholly responsible for his dad getting chucked in prison, aren't I?" Harry said with a roll of the eyes, and Ron grinned, going back to his brew. Harry went back to his own cauldron, sparing Malfoy one more look. If Harry had ever hoped that the final and ultimate defeat of Riddle would soften the blonde's attitude toward the world in general, he was sorely mistaken; if anything, Lucius's recent imprisonment had made Harry's nemesis even more vindictive than ever before, particularly toward Harry himself. This didn't bother Harry as much as it would have at one time. He couldn't even bring himself to reciprocate these feelings anymore; it was much too tiring to devote his energy to disliking someone, especially when he had a wonderful girlfriend to devote himself to in much more positive ways.

The rest of Potions passed mostly in peace (Crabbe somehow managed to ingest a small portion of his unfinished potion and nearly drowned after falling face-first into his cauldron). Harry actually found that he had quite a knack for the subject without Snape breathing down his neck; it was not so different from cooking, a subject he knew plenty about from living with the Dursleys, though the experience was made infinitely more enjoyable with Hermione next to him, squeezing his hand and occasionally bumping him playfully with her hip.

"So, we have an hour before patrols start," she said as they made their way back to the common room after dinner (Ron was on his third helping of dessert). "What do you say we get started on that reading assignment from Mr. O'Hara?"

"Hmm," Harry said, sticking a finger to his chin as though deep in thought. "I was thinking of something a bit _less_ academic." As he said this, he placed a hand on the small of Hermione's back, rubbing slow circles. She shuddered, turning to look nervously behind them.

"Harry, what if someone had been there?" she whispered, and Harry grinned, causing her to blush.

"Then they'd've gotten quite a show," he said, leaning in to kiss the side of her mouth. She sighed contentedly and turned to meet his lips as he kissed her a second time. He guided her to a wall and gently pushed her against it, his right hand cupping her face, his left trailing along her side.

_Skitter-skitter-skitter-skeeeeee…._

"WURF!"

The two had just jumped apart when something large, black, and hairy collided with Harry's legs, sending him flying to the floor, which was less than welcoming. Before Harry could even think about getting up, the large black dog had draped itself across his legs.

"Padfoot!"

The dog's tail began wagging as soon as Harry said his name, and he stared at Harry, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"He's happy to_ see_ _you_," Hermione giggled. She'd managed to escape the furry cannonball and was now watching the scene amusedly from the wall.

"Well, he has the worst timing ever," Harry said, attempting to extricate himself from under Padfoot's massive form, but the dog was so heavy that it was proving difficult. "Padfoot, _move_."

Padfoot chose to ignore this, instead glancing up at Hermione and cocking his head. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It was just a snog, Padfoot," she said in exasperation. "Nothing more."

Padfoot made a small whine, and the message seemed to be clear to Hermione. "Harry's made me quite aware of his opinion on the matter, thank you."

Padfood did what could only be called a canine approximation of a shrug and crawled off of Harry, who bopped the dog in the nose, causing him to flinch back and sneeze.

"By the way, we're going on patrols tonight," Harry said, dusting the dog hair off of his jacket (robes were now an optional uniform piece), "so you're free to check out Hogsmeade…and all that that implies."

The dog gave a gleeful bark, which echoed throughout the corridors, but Hermione made no move to shush him; the sight of Harry smiling down at his friend while the dog skipped in joy was so adorable it would be almost criminal to put a stop to it.

……

"Look, Ginny we can't keep covering for you like this," Hermione said in a low voice as she escorted her sheepish friend back to the Gryffindor common room at five past ten that evening. "I know you like stargazing with Luna, but one day, Malfoy will be the one to find you, and he won't go easy."

Ginny nodded. "I know, Hermione. I keep telling Luna to let me know when curfew rolls around in case I forget, but she's worse than me at remembering things."

"You could always spend time in one of your common rooms," Hermione suggested. "Then the other students would be there to remind you."

Ginny shrugged noncommittally. "I suppose, but…. It's more relaxing when it's just the two of us. She doesn't…stare," reflexively, it seemed, she wrapped her left arm around her right, which was currently missing its usual covering of a thin black glove, leaving the abnormally pale skin exposed to the moonlight. Hermione smiled gently and hugged her friend as they reached the portrait hole.

"Well, we'll just get you a watch with an alarm on it," she said. "Or you can learn the countdown charm. I'll teach you sometime."

"Thanks, Hermione," Ginny said as the portrait swung forward. "G'night."

"'Night, Ginny," Hermione said, turning back to head down the corridor. Harry had gone ahead to check out the fifth floor while Hermione escorted Ginny back to the common room.

As she descended the staircase to the sixth floor, hurried footsteps met her ears. Two sets of them, she noted, increasing her speed. Perhaps some students had heard her talking to Ginny and were trying to escape the "Strict One" as she was referred to by more than a few younger students.

_Wait_, she thought as she reached the sixth floor, looking in the direction of the footsteps. _They're getting louder…._

"Hermione!" Harry's voice called, and Hermione gasped as she saw Harry and….

"Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy was directly behind Harry as they both ran toward Hermione. Her first instinct was a chase, but she quashed that immediately; Harry could flatten Malfoy with all the effort it took her to raise her left pinky. No, from the identical looks of alarm on their faces, they were both victims, but of what?

"You won't believe what just happened!" Harry said, skidding to a halt in front of Hermione, Malfoy looking fearfully in the direction they'd just come.

"You don't think it's coming after us?" he said, and Harry rolled his.

"Right coward, he is," he muttered to Hermione. "I'm positive, Malfoy. I told you, I've had experience with trolls before."

"Harry what happened?"

……

_Moments earlier…._

Harry sighed, shuffling slowly down the steps to the fourth floor; patrols were no fun without Hermione. Ginny and Luna had been their first bust of the evening, and it was Wednesday night, meaning almost no one would even have the energy to sneak out. Checking his watch, he let a groan when he saw that he still had two hours left. He rounded a corner and –

WHAM!

Bumped into a tall figure with unmistakable blonde hair.

"Watch where you're going, Potter! Great, now I have to wash my robes…."

"Malfoy, you're supposed to be patrolling the second floor," Harry said, fixing his jacket. "What are you doing up here?"

"My business is my business," Malfoy said contemptuously. "I don't remember having to answer to _you_."

With a shrug, Harry made to move past the blonde; he really didn't have any patience for dealing with Malfoy when he was in his bitchy mood, which was ninety percent of the time.

"Hey, don't just walk away from me," Malfoy said in annoyance, moving to block Harry, who cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm leaving you to go wash your robes," Harry said. "Y'know, me and Hermione were just snogging before we split up, and she was _alllll over me_."

He delighted in the revolted look this produced from Malfoy. "You're digusting! I don't want to hear about what you've been doing with the mudblood."

"Better a mudblood than a mud_brain_," Harry said, and Malfoy snarled, reaching for his wand, but he stopped when the floor beneath them shuddered slightly. Harry turned, reaching for his own wand and looking around. The floor shuddered again, then again, then once more…. Footsteps. _Big_ footsteps. Coming _towards_ them.

"This way," Harry said, making to grab Malfoy's arm and lead him away, but Malfoy jerked away.

"Get out of it, Potter," he grumbled. "It's probably just Peeves breaking….some…thing…" he trailed off as an enormous figure came around the corner, and Harry had a brief flashback to his first year.

A mountain troll stood there, filling up the entire corridor with its girth. Despite having grown quite a bit since his first year, Harry felt even more dwarfed by this troll than the last for one simple reason: it was _huge_. There was no club in its hands, which were big enough to cause significant damage alone, but someone had seen fit to attach an approximation of brass knuckles to its fists, which it was now banging together while glaring at them.

_Run?_ Harry pondered to himself. _That thing would catch us in an instant. Mountain trolls are pretty fast. Fight. Go for the eyes. What's that spell Sirius taught me? The conjunctivitis curse!_

"_Conjunctivo_!" he yelled, raising his wand at the troll's eyes. The troll reeled back as the spell hit it in the eyes, bellowing in rage. Blinking through the swelling in its eyes, it lumbered forward, raising its massive fists. "Malfoy, run!"

Malfoy seemed frozen in fear, watching the troll as its knuckles collided with the ceiling.

"Malfoy move it!" Harry ran forward, grabbing Malfoy by the shoulders and tugging him backward. The two fell in a heap as the troll's fists fell, landing right where Malfoy had been. The shock of the fall seemed to jar something in Malfoy, and he rolled off of Harry and shuffled backward, shakily climbing to his feet as the troll moved forward, impeded by the cramped surroundings. Harry followed, turning back and freezing in terror as he saw the troll's right fist flying directly at them. Grabbing Malfoy's shoulders once more, he pulled them both to the side as the troll punched the wall, shattering it.

"In there!" Harry shouted, shoving Malfoy toward the hole the troll had created. Now seeming beyond rational thought, Malfoy did as Harry told him, stumbling through the hole. Harry followed, aiming his wand.

"D'you know how to do a stunning spell!?" Harry said, and Malfoy nodded bleakly, staring at the troll as it bellowed furiously, seeming incensed that it couldn't reach them. "Aim at its head! On three! One…two…_three!_"

"_Stupefy_!" they shouted in unison, and twin red beams shot at the troll, connecting with its head. The troll immediately slumped, falling in a heap on the floor.

A ringing silence followed, in which the two stared at the troll, Harry with his wand raised, ready for another stunner, just in case, Malfoy with his knees shaking. The blonde backed up, falling limply against the back wall of the destroyed classroom.

"That was…we could've…" he looked up at Harry, his expression disbelieving. "How can you just…stand there!?"

Satisfied that the troll was sufficiently knocked out, Harry lowered his wand, glancing at Malfoy. "What?"

"We just…almost died!" Malfoy said, his expression hysterical. "That thing could've killed us! It almost _did _kill us! And you're just standing there like it's no big deal!"

Harry shrugged. "Well, this isn't my first time taking on a troll. Mind you the last one was a lot smaller, and Ron dealt the final blow, but we were first years."

"First years…?" Malfoy shook his head.

"Also, _we_ didn't almost die," Harry corrected him, sparing the troll a glance before looking back at Malfoy. "_You_ did. _I _saved your _skin_. Twice."

"You…" Malfoy sneered at him, huffing as he realized the irrevocable truth of the statement. "All right. Fine. What do I owe you?"

"Huh?" Harry said, moving for the classroom door. Malfoy followed, walking as though he'd had a jelly-legs jinx cast on him.

"You saved my life," he said. "That means I owe you, and a Malfoy always repays his debts. What do you want? Money? Status? The Malfoy name is still influential in some circles – "

"Let's be friends," Harry said with a grin, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"What?"

"Let's. Be. Friends." Harry enunciated each word, turning to face him, and Malfoy blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment, shaking his head slowly.

"You just save my life," he said, "and in return you want me…to be your _friend_?"

"Yeah," Harry said, his grin growing. He turned and opened the door, holding it for Malfoy. "I have enough money to buy a small country, and I don't need status. I'm the Boy-Who-Conquered. They'd probably _give_ me a small country. I think you have good friend potential, though."

"Potter, you are barking mad," Malfoy said, moving through the door, and Harry shrugged.

"Hey, you said you owe me, and that's what I want," he replied, following. "Now, come on. We need to find McGonagall."

"Why?"

"She'll want to know that a troll got into Hogwarts…again."

…….

Amelia Bones had thought that the defeat of Riddle would bring about some modicum of peace, if only for a year or two, and then some other event that paled in comparison to the Riddle Wars (as they were being dubbed) but was no less urgent would crop up, and she would swoop in and solve it, glad for the break in monotony.

Sadly, she never accounted for Harry Potter. The boy's mere presence seemed to cause even the most meticulous plans to be chewed up and spit out like so much tobacco.

"'DMLE Investigation File HRQ-60233'," she read to the assembled officers. "'Shortly past 2200 hours on 29 October, 1995, a Cairngormian mountain troll was discovered on the fourth floor of Hogwarts School of Magic. The troll attacked the two students who discovered it, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.'"

At the mention of the second name, muttering broke out among the officers, but Madame Bones silenced them with a severe look.

"'The pair incapacitated the troll'," more mutterings and another severe look, "'which is now being held in the myrtle chamber of Hogwarts for further testing until such a time that the Department of Magical Creatures can claim it.' So reads the case file. Now, Headmistress McGonagall would like to know how a mountain troll found its way into the castle. Think you can find out?"

The officers of the newly formed Department of Magical Investigation nodded, exiting the room and leaving Amelia Bones wondering if she would ever get to take that vacation time that had been accumulating for quite a while.

* * *

"Oh, intriguing," Sirius said, dancing out of the author's reach once more before allowing him to snatch the paper back. "And you make me seem so lovable as a dog!"

"I wasn't finished proofreading yet," the author huffed, attempting to smooth the manuscript against his chest.

"It looks fine to me," Sirius said with a shrug. "Better than anything _I_ could do. You should post it as soon as possible. They'll _devour_ it."

"Think so?" the author asked, glancing back down at the still rumpled manuscript. Sirius nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, let's get this show on the road!"

"Yeah," the author nodded. "Yeah, now that Riddle's gone, I can take this at my own pace. _Harry_ can move at his own pace, now that his life's not in danger."

"Exactly," Sirius said. "That's what I've been trying to tell you for ages! New bad guys, new rules, new everything! C'mon, let's go!"

He grabbed the author's arm and proceeded to drag him to the posting point, shouting as he went, "Say the disclaimer!"

Skidding to a halt just before the exit point, the author took a deep breath. "I don't own Harry Potter or any of its affiliated characters, settings, or any associated creative property. The aforementioned is the sole property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic Publishing Company. Any characters, settings, or creative property mentioned within this story and not associated with Harry Potter are the sole property of me unless otherwise specified, and use is limited to my permission. Thank y-AHH, MY ARM!" The author vanished from sight as Sirius grabbed his arm, tugging him away.


	2. Chapter 1

God, I literally had to beat this one out of my skull. I have multiple concussions to prove it.

Well, not really.

Anyhow, between writing my novel/story, my job, drinking tea, playing World of Warcraft, drawing, plucking away fruitlessly at my new mandolin, copious amounts of real-life romantic turmoil, and the occasional manga, I managed to work a new chapter out. Yes, I have a whole lot of methods of doing pretty much nothing worthwhile (except the writing part; that's worthwhile).

So, to recap Harry and Malfoy were attacked by a troll, and Harry beat it, saving Malfoy's life in the process. In return, all Harry asked for was Draco's friendship. Draco was less than amused. Meanwhile, the Ministry has assigned a task force to find out how a troll got into Hogwarts…again….

Also, there is one scene of girl/girl kissing towards the end, so if any of you have a problem with that, you have time for mental preparation.

* * *

**Chapter One: What do you get when you cross a troll with a ferret? A troll.**

"So…this is the…myrtle chamber?"

"Yeah. Apparently, it's named for the ghost that haunts a girls' lavatory, which is the original entrance before they built the elevator."

"…This place is just plain odd sometimes."

"Can we focus on the task at hand, please?" the team leader, Frank Manning, said, staring at a large figure lying on the floor in front of him. "Miller, what is it?"

"Cairngorman mountain troll, boss," Miller, a tall, lanky young man with far too much gel in his spiky hair, hurried over to his boss's side. "Native to the Cairngorm Mountains of Scotland, known for long forearms and massive fists conducive to lifting boulders and…digging…caves…." He faltered as Manning fixed him with a look. "I…did a report in my fifth year…. I'll check for ambient traces of magic," he quickly rushed off to do just that.

"Phelps," Manning said, turning to another team member, who was consulting a PDA, a new equipment issue that Manning had little patience for, despite its usefulness. Phelps was a short, stocky man, but he could wrestle a man twice his size to the ground if need be. He kept his black hair in a short buzz.

"Jacobs and Iggy are checking the area around the original scene for possible entry points for a troll. Helen is interviewing the victims, and…" he looked up at Manning, who was looking expectantly at him, "I'll help Miller process the troll." He rushed off. Manning nodded.

"I'm checking up on Helen," he said, heading back for the exit. "If anything comes up, _call me_."

"Got it, boss," Phelps said, nudging the troll apprehensively with his toe. He glanced at Miller. "Is this thing…dead?"

"Apparently knocked out," Miller said. "They refresh the stunning spell every hour."

"What time is it?"

Miller checked his watch. "Four forty-eight."

Phelps nodded as though expecting nothing else. "Great."

…

"And you have no idea how a mountain troll got into the school?"

"No," Malfoy spat, annoyed. "Isn't that _your_ job? To figure it out?"

"Oh, calm _down_," Harry said, glaring at the blonde. "She's just doing her job." He turned to the officer (Helen, he recalled) and smiled. "Sorry about my friend; he get's bitchy sometimes."

"I'm not _bitchy_," Malfoy shot at him. "And stop calling me your _friend_! We're not friends!"

"Indoor voice, _Draco_," Harry said with a smirk, cocking an eyebrow at Malfoy. He turned to the officer, effectively ignoring any retort from his companion. "No, we don't know how a troll would have gotten into the school. Last time it was a professor, but none of them seem to be untrustworthy at all right now."

"Last time?"

"Yeah, it happened about four years ago," Harry said with a nod. "Professor Quirrel let in a troll, and it attacked my girlfriend. Well, she wasn't at the time, but she was a still a friend. Me and Ron fought it off."

"A professor let in a troll?" Helen asked, and Harry nodded.

"We didn't know it was him at the time, of course, or he probably would've been sacked right away," Harry said.

"How was the DMLE never informed of this?" Helen asked, scribbling at her notepad, and Harry shrugged.

"Well, Dumbledore was the headmaster at the time," he said with a wry grin. "Reckon he didn't really care about anything that didn't fit with his master plan."

"I think the Ministry is beginning to figure that out," Helen muttered, shaking her head slowly. "Diabolical plots aside, did you notice anything odd in the days prior to the attack? Unusual sounds from anywhere, strange smells or anything like that?"

"Besides blondie's perfume?" Harry asked, smirking at Malfoy, who shot him a disparaging look but said nothing for once. "No, not really. Hogwarts is a big place, y'know? Easy to miss things."

"True enough," Helen agreed, jotting down another note. "Well, if you think of anything at all that might help us, just talk to Professor McGonagall. We've installed phone lines in the Ministry and Hogwarts, so we have a direct line of communications. Call if you think of anything or if you need something from us," she said, standing and extending a hand to shake Harry's, which Harry readily accepted. Malfoy was already on his way to the door, and Harry rolled his eyes at the blonde's back.

"I apologize again for my friend's behavior," he said to Helen. "He's still a little on edge from the whole ordeal. Bit of a weak constitution, you see. Delicate, and all that."

"I understand completely," Helen said, unsuccessfully fighting off giggles at the enraged look on Malfoy's face.

…

"Was the whole 'weak constitution' and 'delicate' talk absolutely necessary?" Draco said as the pair made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Completely," Harry said with a grin, laughing as he recalled Malfoy's expression. "Shoulda seen your face, mate."

"Don't…call me that!" Malfoy said, stopping and rounding on Harry. "When will you realize, Potter, that I'm not…I'm not even…." He seemed incapable of completing his sentence, even though his face was reddening with the effort.

"You alright?" Harry asked, and Malfoy shook his head, letting out a breath with huge gasp and sagging against the wall behind him.

"I can't even say it," he said. "I think the thought of being…_friends_ with you repulses me so much that I can't even say it."

"But you just did," Harry said with a smile. "Why don't you like the thought of being friends with me? What about me disgusts you so much?"

"Are you joking?" Malfoy asked. "Maybe that trip to America made you forget, but I've always hated you, Potter."

"I wonder…" Harry thought back, staring contemplatively over Malfoy's shoulder. "Is that because I didn't accept your offer of friendship back in first year?"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin…" Malfoy grumbled, resuming his path to the Great Hall, and Harry followed at a trot, grinning.

"Look, if it's because of that, you _were_ acting a right foul git," Harry said. "You insulted Ron, the first friend my own age I'd ever made. Of course I said no. Now, if you had made the offer to _both_ of us, maybe I would've – "

"Like a Malfoy'd _ever_ be friends with a Weasley," Malfoy scoffed, and Harry shrugged.

"You need to get over this elitist thing, mate," he said. "Yeah, you're rich, but the blood in your veins isn't solid gold, and the name 'Malfoy' isn't some divine gift. Look at me. I'm a half-blood with one of the most common last names you could think of, and which of the two of us is more likely to turn heads down Diagon Alley? Not to sound arrogant, of course.

"But we can be friends now, if you want," Harry went on. "In fact, if I recall, that's what I asked for that day I saved you from the troll."

Malfoy twitched, but gave no other reaction to the word "saved". He merely shook his head. "Why would I be friends with you now? You destroyed the Dark Lord, who my father happened to support wholeheartedly."

"Did _you_ support him?" Harry asked. "It's always 'my father' with you. What about Draco? I'd kind of like to get to know _him_."

"I supported him _because_ my father supported him," Draco said. "I was a good son."

"Doesn't sound like he was a first class father, though," Harry said, and Draco rounded on him again.

"Don't insult my father, Potter," he said, and Harry shrugged.

"I'm not really insulting him," he said. "I just think he made a few bad calls in his life. He was too full of hate, too full of _himself_. There's so much more to life when you realize that you don't have to worry about little things like who's got more wizard blood in them or who's richer than who. Look at the Weasleys. They've not got a vault full of gold at Gringotts, and I've never seen a happier family in my life. Look at Hermione. She's mundane-born, and she's got both of us beat at academics."

Draco looked ready to retort, but he couldn't seem to think of anything, so Harry went on.

"It doesn't _matter_," Harry said. "It doesn't matter where you came from, it matters who you_ are_. Say it with me. 'It doesn't matter where you came from, it matters who you are'."

"Oh, shut it," Draco said as they reached the Great Hall, where dinner was being served. He abruptly stormed off for the Slytherin table, leaving Harry shaking his head in resignation. Making for the Gryffindor table, Harry plopped down next to Hermione, who smiled and wrapped her arms around his right arm.

"How was the interview?" she asked, and Harry shrugged.

"She sounded like she knew what she was doing," he said. "Malfoy's a right basket case, though. He can't let go of his daddy issues, I guess."

"Well, he and his father were really close," Hermione said.

"Close?" Ron asked, swallowing a mouthful of turkey. "I think he's a clone of his father. You know like that sheep?"

"How do you know about cloning?" Hermione asked, and Harry chuckled as Ron grinned.

"Val told me about it in her last letter," he said. "Oh, she's coming to the Burrow for Christmas, too. You two are invited as well."

"Actually, we were planning on checking out one of my houses in France," Harry said sheepishly. "You're welcome to come, if you like."

Ron smirked. "How long d'you think it'll be before you've been to every one of those houses? Ten years?"

"Reckon we can do it in eight if we plan it right," Harry said with mock assuredness, and Ron rolled his eyes as Hermione giggled, kissing him on the cheek.

"So, does this make you my sugar-daddy?" she whispered in his ear, and Harry snorted, bursting into laughter as Hermione collapsed into giggles next to him. Ron merely shook his head, having not heard Hermione's comment, and speared a steak on his fork.

"Mental, the both of you," he muttered, reaching for some sauce.

…

"_It doesn't matter where you came from; it matters who you _are_."_

Stupid Potter and his stupid omniscience. When did he suddenly become so wise and…content? He had a sort of calm about him that reminded Draco of Dumbledore, irritatingly enough. And what he'd said…as much as he hated to admit it, Potter had a point; Draco couldn't think of any life decision he'd made that didn't have some correlation with his father. And was that any way for Draco Malfoy to behave? So hung up on his father that he didn't have an original thought in the world? No. Draco Malfoy was no copy, no cheap knockoff of his father. Draco Malfoy was his own man, no one else but himself.

But the more he thought about it, the more Draco realized that he didn't even know who "Draco Malfoy" was. Who was _he_? What did _he _want? These questions should be easy, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of an answer. He was Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune, but what did that mean?

"Damn you, Harry," he muttered, rolling over onto his side and punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape. Sighing, he stared at the green hangings, which had been spelled to block the insufferable cacophony of Crabbe and Goyle's snores since first year. He tried to think back to his first year; who had he been then, and what had he wanted? He distinctly remembered the moment that Harry had said no to him way back then, declined his offer of friendship in favor of the Weasley boy. He remembered waiting for his response, the thoughts of joining up with Harry Potter, whom he'd admittedly acknowledged as an equal way back then, and taking Hogwarts by storm. The Malfoy-Potter alliance should have been legend.

_But why couldn't it still be?_ Draco found himself thinking. He still had a chance, so why couldn't he take Harry up on his offer and…do what? He'd never really planned anything _after_ legendary status. Caught up in his imaginings, he'd just dreamt of being famous, not what he do once he _was_.

_I would've written Father_, he realized. Of course; once he had Potter under his thumb, he would've gone straight to Daddy, begged for a direction, proudly announced his conquest and then listened to his father live vicariously through him. This was unacceptable; Draco Malfoy was no puppet, not even for his father! _Especially_ not for his father! No, he'd do whatever he damn well pleased! And right now, that was join up with Harry Potter (as completely, maddeningly insane as it was) and take Hogwarts by storm! His way!

…

"Gail, what do you have for me on that troll?" Manning asked, striding into the lab, where Gail was staring at a magical display of what looked to him like nothing more than a complex series of helixes and swirling figures. "What is that?"

"Well, I took a cross-section of all trace magic collected from the troll and isolated all foreign spell signatures," she gestured at the screen. "What I found seems to be a very complex series of charms, hexes, and curses designed to placate and control the troll, judging from the nature of the magic, but the magic is different. More powerful, but less streamlined."

"So, what do I tell Bones?"

"Something was trying to control this thing," Gail said. "But it definitely isn't human. Human magic conducted through wands is more precise. This looks more like wandless magic, but the signatures don't match any human-designed spells in our index." She turned to Manning. "If I had to guess, I'd say a creature with near-human intelligence, but the magic signatures are too powerful."

Manning only stared back, and Gail turned back to the monitor. "I'll just compare the spell patterns to the Ministry list of magic-using creatures to look for any similarities."

With a nod, Manning strode from the office. "Keep me posted," were his parting words. Gail rolled her eyes, tapping a few keys on the keyboard and telling the computer to cross-reference the magic with every known semi-intelligent magical creature. With the most recently updated list numbering in the several hundreds, she knew it would be quite a wait.

In the meantime, Manning surely wouldn't mind her listening to some Bob Dylan to pass the time….

…

Harry wasn't fool enough to think that he'd seen all the world (magical or otherwise) had to offer; indeed, he imagined quite the opposite, that he'd just scratched the surface, that the weird things he'd seen were just the tip of a truly monumental iceberg.

However, no amount of pragmatism could prepare him for the utter shock waiting for him in the entrance hall the day after his confrontation with Draco.

"Harry," a voice said, a voice that Harry had never imagined would actually form his first name, at least without his surname added with no small amount of contempt. "Wait up."

Harry stopped dead as Draco Malfoy hurried toward him with an uncharacteristically calm expression, no trace or ghost of his normal sneers or mocking grins. He looked to his right to find Hermione staring at the blonde with blatant shock; so he wasn't imagining things, or he and Hermione were sharing the same very realistic hallucination.

"Um…good morning, Draco," Harry said, and Malfoy nodded curtly, halting in front of him. "You need something?"

"I've thought about what you said yesterday," he said, and Harry was mildly surprised at that; Draco had actually _listened_ to his advice. "I realized some hard truths, and I came to a decision. You said that you wanted to be f-friends," he stumbled over the word but pressed on, "and I agree. So…" he finished lamely, and Harry and Hermione stared.

"Good God, Harry, what did you do to him?" Hermione whispered, though Draco heard perfectly and rolled his eyes.

"So?" he repeated, and Harry realized he was expecting something.

"Um, yeah," Harry said, nodding. "Sure, let's be friends. Did you…maybe want to eat breakfast with us, or…?"

"I've actually got to talk to Crabbe and Goyle," Draco said, "let them know about my decision. Lunch, though, I'll be free. I'll come to the Gryffindor table."

"Okay," Harry said, having difficulty absorbing all of this. "See you then."

"See you," Draco said, turning and making his way to the Slytherin table. Harry, though, couldn't shake the nagging curiosity eating at his mind; what on earth had caused his arch-nemesis, Draco Malfoy, number one hater of Harry Potter, to pull a total one-eighty and suddenly agree to be his friend, an idea Harry had had on a whim and pitched as a joke?

"Hermione, what _did_ I do to him?" he asked, and Hermione gave a disbelieving laugh as the pair watched Draco sit next to his boulder-sized companions and talk with them in a low voice.

"Well, maybe it's best we don't question it," Hermione said. "If he _is_ turning over a new leaf, good for him. If not, and he's plotting something, we'll make him regret ever learning our names."

Harry chuckled, taking her hand. "I'm lucky to have such a caring and dangerous girlfriend."

"You'd better believe it," Hermione said, bumping him with her shoulder, and the pair made their way to the Gryffindor table.

…

"Wh…hold on," Ron said, shaking his head later that day as the trio sat down for lunch. "Must not've heard you right. It sounded for a moment like you were saying Draco Malfoy's going to be sitting with us."

"Funny enough, that _is_ what I said," Harry replied, and Ron turned to him with a carefully stoic expression clearly staring Harry down as though waiting for a crack in his façade. When none came, he looked disbelievingly at Hermione and then back to Harry.

"You…you're actually serious," he said. "Harry, this…this is Draco _Malfoy_. He's hated your guts as long as you've known each other. He's tried to get us expelled who knows how many times. He almost got Hagrid fired two years ago! Now suddenly you're being all chummy with him?"

"Well it sounds bad when you put it like _that_," a new voice said, and Ron rounded to see Draco himself staring at him with an eyebrow quirked. "Hello, Weas—_Ron_. How are you today?"

"What's your game, Malfoy?" Ron replied, forgoing pleasantries. He stood to stare Draco in the eyes. "What are you up to this time? You after his money? Read that article in _Ingots_ and want a slice of the Potter fortune? Or are you just pissed that he finally beat Riddle?"

"Don't tell me you're _jealous_," Draco said, his characteristic smirk sliding back into place. "I've always thought you had a thing for Harry – "

Ron's wand was in hand in seconds. "You should stop talking now," he growled, and Harry stood to step between them.

"Calm down, you two," he said firmly. "Draco, stop antagonizing Ron. Ron, don't condemn Draco just because he was an ass before."

"Hey," Draco said defensively, but Harry ignored him.

"Give him a chance, okay, Ron?" Harry asked, looking at his best mate. "Maybe he wasn't so pleasant before, but he's trying to change, and we should respect that."

Ron looked at Draco, distrust written all over his face. "Fine," he said. "But if you mess up even once, I'll show you a few tricks I learned 'cross the pond."

"I'm shaking in my shoes," Draco said, sitting opposite Ron, on Harry's other side. "By the way, Crabbe and Goyle want to join us. They promise to behave."

"Alright," Harry said with a nod, and Draco nodded at the Slytherin table. As one, the two unmistakable forms of Draco's minions rose and made their way over to the group. They sat opposite Draco, next to Ron, who edged away from the pair slightly.

"I should've known it was too much to ask for a normal year for once," he muttered, digging into his yams.

…

"It's almost curfew," Luna observed, sounding completely unconcerned about the fact as she stared dreamily up at the sky. Ginny shrugged, resting her chin on her knees as her gaze fell to the Forbidden Forest below.

"Hermione's on patrol tonight," Luna added. "She doesn't like it when she finds you out past curfew. She's worried about you."

"She shouldn't worry about me," Ginny muttered. "I hate it when she worries about me."

"She's your friend," Luna said airily. "Friends worry about each other. At least, that's what I think. I don't really have friends."

"You're _my_ friend, Luna," Ginny said, looking at Luna in surprise. "I worry about _you_. Do the other girls still pick on you?"

"Not really anymore," Luna said, smiling serenely. "Curtis Fenwick still can't move the fingers in his left hand, and I think that keeps the others at bay."

Ginny smiled wryly, flexing the fingers in her right hand; she had long since adjusted to the prosthetic arm the hospital in Arizona had given her, discovering in the process that the limb was much more powerful than a standard human arm (powerful enough to fracture a wrist if enough pressure is applied, she'd found out).

"Little bastard had it coming," she said, looking back up at Luna. "If anyone else gives you trouble, you tell me. I'll take care of them for you."

"You're very protective of me," Luna said rather bluntly, still managing to sound a little detached as she did.

"I am," Ginny agreed. "You…I like being with you. I don't have to censor myself or anything with you. I can say and do what I please and not have to worry about you…judging me or going 'What the hell?' when I do something weird. I can really relax around you. I figure keeping the other kids from bullying you is the least I can do."

Luna smiled at Ginny, and Ginny could feel herself reflexively smile back. Her watch beeped, and she sighed, looking down to see that curfew was five minutes off. That gave just them enough time to get back to their common rooms.

"Okay, let's go," Ginny said, standing, and Luna followed suit. As they moved for the door, Ginny took Luna's hand and stopped, pulling the blonde back to her. "Close your eyes," she whispered, leaning in, and Luna obliged, shutting her eyes as Ginny did the same, their lips connecting.

Ginny quickly seized control of the kiss, wrapping her arms around Luna, who did the same, and pulling her as close as possible. She worked Luna's lips apart and tasted the inside of her mouth, tasting an unidentifiable flavor that could only be described as "Luna". Plunging further, she trailed her fingers through Luna's scraggly hair, gliding her fingertips along the other girl's cheek and down her neck, eliciting a giggle in the back of the blonde's throat; she was ticklish, it seemed.

Finally, the pair broke apart for some much-needed air, and Ginny looked shakily up at Luna, who was smiling even more dazedly than usual as she stared over Ginny's shoulder.

"That was nice," she said breathily, and Ginny giggled.

"It was," she agreed. "I think I might want to do that more often."

"Okay," Luna breathed, and Ginny smiled, taking her hand.

"And…I won't like it if you do that with anyone else," she said as they made their way inside.

Luna nodded with a smile.

"Okay."

…

_To: _

_From: _

_Subject: Status Report_

_Contents:_

_Our inside man tells us the Ministry was snooping around today. That troll really threw a wrench into things. I don't think they'll be able to trace it to us, though. If they do, this may escalate into a full-scale war, but everything's in place in case we have to go to contingency plans. In the meantime, we've stepped up our guard on the remaining trolls to prevent this happening again._

_Nothing else of merit to report, though morale is low lately. Everyone enjoyed the last shipment of kegs, and they've been asking when we'll get some more._

_H.H._

_P.S. I managed to get copies of those schedules you asked for. I attached them as a .pdf. You have Adobe, right?_

* * *

Werd.

This chapter was in production for several months. Meaning I started it, procrastinated for an inordinate amount of time, and finally got around to finishing it. I have a general idea of where I want the plot to go, but I've never let such trivial things bog me down. Rest assured that it will probably take another few months for me to cram out another chapter, and it may not even be for this story, and by then, the plot may even have changed again. I predict I'll have to retcon something at some point.

Anyway, on to the one point that I'm absolutely sure will draw at least some criticism: Ginny and Luna's little peck on the Astronomy Tower. From my point of view, Ginny's probably a little emotionally exhausted from the events of the previous book. Between the love potion, her fight with her mom, having to watch Hermione and Harry get together, and being attacked by a vampire and losing her arm, she's probably dealing with some tumultuous emotions. Enter Luna, who's just so…carefree that Ginny feels drawn to her in every way. I don't think it's such a stretch that Ginny would rebound to Luna (she is at that age where girls like to "experiment"), and Luna's so mellow that she probably wouldn't mind in the slightest and would probably even like the opportunity to help her first friend. Thus, a rather heated kiss from Ginny.

But I ramble. If you have questions, suggestions, praise, accolades, what have you, feel free to send them in a review. Heck, flames are welcome; they usually give me a chuckle.

Also, I could've posted this a day sooner, but a storm knocked out the internet in my area. Fuckin' weather.


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